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About Me

is an unapologetic, bleeding-heart liberal who writes about everything from politics to private parts. A TV-writer in a former life, her credits include "Big Spender" for Animal Planet,and "A Child Too Many," "Cradle of Conspiracy" & "Deceived By Trust," for Lifetime

Includes a 36” x 30” putting green made from mini-golf course carpeting, a plastic cup and flag, mini-putter and two practice balls.All for only $22.95.

Potty Fisherman also available.

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This week’s Steaming Pile of Shit Award…

… goes to heartless Republican dick Eric Cantor for saying he would not approve disaster relief funds for tornado-devastated areas in the mid-west unless they were tied to spending cuts elsewhere.

Some members of his own party were even surprised by this:Rep. Mike Simpson (R-Idaho) said, "If you can find offsets, great. If you can't, you can't," he said. "That's what an emergency is, by definition."

Rep. Jo Ann Emerson (R-Mo.), with parts of her district under 12 feet of water as a result of flooding said, "It makes me sad" that some Republicans are insisting on offsets for natural disaster of this scale, and in the case of Cantor, "I was disappointed. I need to take him to my district."

The irony:A lot of the same people in this deeply red area of the country voted Eric Cantor and his GOP pals into the position where they can deny them the help they so desperately need now.

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Meanwhile the party of slash-and-burn still has its machetes out for Medicare…

... which is not going over well with the folks back home as evidenced by the surprise win this week of Democrat Kathy Hochul over Republican Jane Corwin in a traditional GOP stronghold district in New York state.Corwin had fully endorsed the GOP plan to replace Medicare with a voucher system that would force the elderly to purchase private health insurance on the open market.

You don’t want to be messin’ with seniors.We’re cranky.

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And finally, from those geniuses over at Fox news, perhaps a little too much information about Arnold’s sexual prowess…

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

I've been struggling with my own writing lately and when that happens I often pick up the book of a favorite writer to help me get back in the groove. These days, I've needed an injection of humor. I wrote this piece in January of 2010. I figure if you haven't read it, then it counts as a new post. On the other hand if you did read it way back then and your memory is as bad as mine, then it's probably still a new post. Either way, it's a win-win for me until I find my funny again.

Nora Ephron is one of my very favorite writers. In my book, nobody does humor writing better.

Well known for such hit comedies as “When Harry Met Sally” and “You’ve Got Mail,” her newest movie, this year’s “Julie & Julia,” is probably my favorite of all her work. I actually got all teary-eyed at the end and eliciting tears from me, especially in public, is no easy feat. Crying was something I was taught should be done in private, like moving one’s bowels.

My favorite book of hers, “I Feel Bad About My Neck…” is a collection of drop-dead-funny essays about growing older as a woman. If I’d written it the title would have been “I Feel Bad About My Arms…” It’s not that I have wings that hang down and flap in the breeze when I wave to a neighbor. I actually have thin arms and fairly well-toned ones at that. It’s just that the skin on them no longer fits. I don’t know what the hell happened. It’s kind of like how jeans get after you’ve washed them one too many times and the Lycra is all worn out. Yeah, you get the picture. My arms need to be shrink-wrapped. Why hasn’t someone invented a machine for that – where you could stick your arms into plastic wrap sleeves, hear a loud sucking sound and voila! Tight, toned arms of a 20-year-old. Someone could make a bundle off such a machine. But I digress…

Nora and I have a lot in common and I firmly believe we would be great friends. We share a similar view of the world, are of the same generation and we’re both writers, though I in no way, shape or form delude myself by thinking we are in the same league. In fact, if we were sisters, she’d be the talented one and I’d be the one awkwardly attempting to follow in her footsteps that everyone would feel they had to be nice to. Still, I’d get to hang out with her and that, in itself, would make it all worthwhile.

I tried to friend her on Facebook last year. At that time she only had seven friends and one of them is Hillary Clinton, so how cool would that have been? But she ignored me. I know! I was shocked, too.

Then I entered an essay contest that she was judging through Elle magazine. The winner would have had her essay included in Ephron’s newest play, “Love, Loss and What I Wore,” AND gotten flown to NY to meet her and see the show. Those of you who’ve read my post, “The Reluctant Traveler…” know how I feel about flying, but I figured if I could meet Nora Ephron, fuck it – I could die happy. Well, I didn’t win, but I can’t tell you how special it makes me feel to know that my idol Nora held my work in her very own hands and personally rejected me.

Now that our paths have crossed I’m going to attempt to “friend” her again and I’ve composed the following message:

Dear Nora,

Thank you so much for considering my Elle essay entry, “That Special Dress.” While I didn’t win, I want you to know that I bear you no grudge as I’m sure that must be weighing on you heavily.

To show you how magnanimous I am and out of a friendship that I know, once developed, will be deep and meaningful and span the rest of our lives, I invite you to be my “friend” here on Facebook -- and if you should ever need a kidney, look no further.

Sunday, May 22, 2011

While we all enjoyed a good laugh at Princess Beatrice over her now infamous wedding hat, turns out the princess is using all the media attention her millinery masterpiece garnered for a good cause.The creation has been put up for sale on eBay.Described as a “unique celebratory headpiece,” as of Saturday 3 bidders were competing for the hat with the top bidder offering 81,000 pounds ($131,000).The princess is donating the proceeds to UNICEF and Children in Crisis.

Good for you, Beatrice!

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Of course the big news of the week was Arnold’s love child…

Seriously, guys.If you’re going to cheat on your wife, couldn’t you at least wrap that thing up.I have to say the only thing about this whole affair that surprises me at all is that it took Maria 25 years to figure out her husband was a douche bag.

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The Steaming Pile of Shit Award…

Goes to those homophobes in the Tennessee State Senate for their approval of a ban on the teaching of homosexuality in grades K-8.

Notwithstanding the fact that it was never taught in any classroom in the state to begin with, this legislation goes that all important extra mile by forbidding teachers from even discussing the fact that some people are gay.

So, there will be no Homosexuality 101 for Tennessee kids, which is sad when you think about it.Wherever will they learn how to be gay?How will they compete against the more well-educated gays of other states for jobs in fashion and musical theater?

We all know that in order to grow up a successful gay you need to get a solid start in grade school.

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Pity the poor Secret Service guy…

… whose shit job it is to monitor Fox News all day long.Apparently, unschooled in the ways of Twitter, the agent sent out this tweet believing he was on his personal account.

Oops.

The Secret Service issued this response:"The tweet did not reflect the views of the U.S. Secret Service and it was immediately removed. We apologize for this mistake, and the user no longer has access to our official account."

Too late.The tweet had instantly been retweeted and screen-grabbed by the Service’s 18,000 followers.

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Finally, from Katie Goodman of Broad Comedy, a little tune for those days when you get so down because everything is so fucked up…

At least waitresses get tips.Writers get nothing if we don’t know you were here.Whattaya say?

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

When I was in the 7th grade, the teacher had each of us stand up and tell the class what we wanted to be when we grew up.My little heart pounding, my gut in a twist, I stood when it was my turn and announced that I wanted to be a jockey – and the entire class laughed.

But the joke was on them.

Having for years spent my allowance each week on “Millie The Model” comic books, what I really dreamed of being was a model, just like Millie.Taunted all my young years with the moniker of “plain Jane,” I ached for Millie’s glamorous life, but I couldn’t tell them that.Oh, hell no!To be laughed at for wanting to be a jockey was nothing. To be laughed at for my deepest heart’s desire – that would have been crushing.

When I was in my twenties, my modeling career became a reality, mostly catalogues and print ads for this product or that.Cheryl Tiegs had nothing to fear, but I’d achieved my childhood goal and it was with great pride that I toted my 11 x 14 portfolio of photos all over San Francisco on “go sees” just as Millie had done.

My thirties found me in Hollywood pursuing an accidental acting career.I say “accidental” because never in my life had I ever had such a notion, but from the modeling one thing had led to another and there I was. I would eventually come to learn that in life there are no "accidents." A few commercials, some bit parts in TV shows, and I had succeeded, at least on some level, at what I’d set out to do, and though my heart really wasn’t in it, acting did serve to lead me to the next step on my journey.

Midway through the decade, with younger models hot on my heels and an acting career stalled in the slow lane, change once again happened upon me with the surprising discovery that I not only liked to write, but seemed to have some aptitude at it, and I set my sights on a career writing movies for television.While learning my craft,I wrote spec scripts, took writing classes, pitched ideas, and made the rounds at agents. Finally, after years of this, I got my first movie deal and with it my shiny, plastic Writer’s Guild card.I was in!

TV movies flourished in those years from 1980 through the nineties, and I achieved a pretty decent career for myself with little thought of it ever ending.But end it did, with the arrival of reality-TV, which could be made a lot cheaper and without having to deal with those pesky writers.And so right around the early part of the 21st Century, when a sunny morning in September would forever alter the world as we knew it, my personal world shifted on its axis, as well, and I faced a future without an income.

My decision to go back to school and become a paralegal while in my fifties was daunting and not made any less so by the fact that I was older than the damn teachers, but it was also challenging and exciting.I found a job that allowed me to work from home as I had all those years as a writer, so not much changed except the pay scale, but at least it was a steady gig, which I’d never had in my other professional incarnations.

Which brings me to now.I look around at the path my life has taken from city girl to farm life and marvel at the circuitous route that led me here.It was nothingI could have planned and yet perfectly planned it now seems, as if by some unseen hand that picked me up each time I fell, dusted me off and sent me once again on my way.

Sunday, May 15, 2011

No word on how they’ll reconfigure the show to accommodate him, but I have an idea:Jon Cryer wakes up screaming from a nightmare and runs into Charlie’s bathroom where Charlie is in the shower.Panicked, Jon tells him about his dream where his brother was an ego-maniacal, abusive, alcoholic womanizer.Shower door opens to reveal Ashton and Victoria Principle.

Hey – it could work.

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From the world of fashion…

Penis shoes!Can you name who rocked these this week? I just know those high-heel fashionistas Linda and Nicky are going to be battling it out for these babies.

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The Republican presidential candidate field got more interesting this week, because let’s face it, it couldn’t get any less…

Newt Gingrich announced via Twitter and YouTube that he would join the GOP lineup. With his love ‘em and dump ‘em history with women, maybe he should have announced on Match.com.

Mike Huckabee said that he would not run, preferring to continues his lucrative career as a Faux right-wing mouth piece and wanna-be rock star.

While tea party darling Michelle Bachmann received a challenge from a New Jersey high school sophomore this week to debate the Constitution. In a letter to the congresswoman, Amy Myers said, “I have found quite a few of your statements regarding The Constitution of the United States, the quality of public school education and general U.S. civics matters to be factually incorrect, inaccurately applied or grossly distorted…”Sounds like the Republicans should consider drafting Amy.

Presidential tease, Donald Trump, having his ass already kicked once by President Obama this month, has hired investigators to search for his testicles, which were last seen being lopped off at the White House Correspondent’s Dinner.

Finally, always-a-bridesmaid Ron Paul will give it another shot.Running on a platform to legalize marijuana, heroin and prostitution, he seems to lead the field.I’ve got to admit, he got it right on Iraq.

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And while we’re on the subject of politics, have you ever tried to contact your representative?Here a video that gives a whole new meaning to the term “stonewalling.”Enjoy…

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

If you follow me on Facebook, I posted three videos of me riding a friend's horse this past Monday and it reminded me of this post that I wrote a while back. Some of you may remember it and for others it may be new. Every so often real world responsibilities necessitate dusting one off and bringing it out again and this was one of my favorites...

I’ve had a love affair with horses since I was a child. I’m told that at the age of three, my maternal grandfather, a race horse trainer, would take me to the track and put me on the lead ponies. I have no memory of this and no photos either, which really sucks, but I believe it anyway. Growing up, I would have killed (I know that’s a term that’s thrown around loosely, but trust me, I really would have killed) to have had a horse. Aside from some summer riding on rental horses and hanging around the local 4H barn like an adoring groupie years before the word had even been coined, I never had the chance to indulge my passion.

Me and Levi

Then, at 38 years old, a fossil in terms of starting to ride, I met a bunch of people who had horses and I began to sink every spare penny I could get a hold of into riding lessons. I had no idea at all of what English riding was, but was sent to a trainer who said to me, “Do you want to chase cows?” Well, no… “Then you’ll ride English.” Uh… okay. The horse he put me on was a half-Arab, half-Morgan named Pawnee. Pawnee would pin his ears and try to chase me out of the stall when I’d go to get him and then try to step on my foot when I’d saddle him. Being used to being treated like crap by the male gender I, of course, was crazy about him. We were soon galloping wildly out of control all over GriffithParkin Burbank and I was having the time of my life.

After a while, trail riding wasn’t enough though. I spent countless hours at the local equestrian center watching horse shows, specifically the jumpers, and I knew that’s what I had to do. Let me reiterate verbatim, 38 is a fossil in terms of starting to ride, and now I was going get on the back of a 1200-pound horse and jump over a fence. I should probably mention that I was never athletic. Nope, no athletic ability whatsoever. Didn’t even walk if I didn’t absolutely have to. While that should have deterred me, or at least given me pause, mature decision-making has never been my strong suit.

Enter a new trainer and a new horse, Argon, a big German warmblood. Argon was a rock star of a horse. He was everything I’d been looking for in a man, but couldn’t find. Tall, drop-dead gorgeous, and gelded. Best of all, he loved me, too. And he was for sale! This was in 1989 and the owner was asking $15,000, a fortune then. I was a freelance TV-writer at the time, meaning I was often “between jobs,” but since fiscal responsibility had never darkened my doorstep before, why should it now? I borrowed $5,000 off a credit card for a down payment and promised her $1,000 a month till he was paid off, fully willing to sell my body on a street corner if that’s what it took. That horse was the most patient, kind, generous creature ever. He’d take me galloping on the trail one day and into the show ring the next where he’d pack my sorry ass over every fence without complaint. Here is a photo of us. Isn’t he gorgeous? I, on the other hand, look like I’m having a bowel movement.

If you’ve ever seen the movie I wrote for Animal Planet called “Big Spender,” the scenes where Big Spender is given peppermint candy are based on Argie’s voracious appetite for the treat. Just the sound of me unwrapping the cellophane would start him nickering and begging. He never had to beg for long. I would have given him a kidney. Argon was the love of my life and our partnership lasted for seven years until 1996 when, at the age of 17, he let out one whinny and just dropped dead in the barn. It was as if someone had reached inside my chest, grabbed my heart in their fist, and yanked it out. I slept with his blanket for a month because it smelled like him.

My next steed was a retired polo horse named Bubba who’d actually been given to a friend of mine, but she didn’t ride him much so he became my horse and for the next three years we rode the trails. Having played the treacherous sport of polo with mallets swinging around his head for eight years, nothing spooked him. I was probably most at ease on Bubba out on the trail than with any other horse I’ve ridden and we had the best beach rides ever. In 1999, he was getting older and stiffer and it was time to retire him. Here we are at his retirement.

Let me just note here that 10 years later, at the ripe old age of at least 25, Bubba is still going strong and still on the payroll. I, however, will never be able to retire and fully expect to someday be living under an overpass.

Anxious to get back to jumping, but also still wanting to ride on trails, I bought a Thoroughbred/Quarter Horse cross by the name of Kona. Kona, like Argon, was another mensch of a horse. I showed him under the name “Hello, Handsome,” because, well… obviously. This is my absolute favorite jumping photo of us.

He always jumped the fence, no matter how badly I got him there. I’m sure that somewhere from the great beyond, Argie was telling him, “Yeah, I know. She rides like crap, but take care of her anyway,” and take care of me Kona always did. In 2005, he incurred some kind of freak spinal cord injury. We never did figure out what happened, but after two weeks and thousands of dollars trying to save him, I had to put him down and, once again, my heart was broken.

Which brings me to now. Horses are expensive and while I would sell my soul to have another, apparently the soul market isn’t what it used to be. When I approached the devil with my offer, he replied, “Yeah, yeah, you and everyone else. Take a number.”

So here I sit, horseless. Riding and hanging out at the barn and at shows with my friends was such a huge part of my life for so long and I miss it deeply. I still have friends who let me ride their horses from time to time, and I’m grateful, but it’s not like that special bond you have with your own. Nonetheless, it’s a beautiful day today and I’m going to go over to the barn and watch some of my friends ride. And, by the way, say what you will about the softness of a baby’s butt – there’s nothing softer than a horse’s nose. This is me and Argon after winning our first blue ribbon.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Congratulations are in order for Sir Paul McCartney.The 68-year-Beatle announced his engagement to his girlfriend of four years, 51-year-old New York businesswoman Nancy Shevell.You know what they say about the “third time.”

But the big wedding news this week comes out of California where 100-year-old Forrest Lunsway and his 90-year-old bride, Rose Pollard, tied the knot after dating for 30 years.

What took them so long? Both were widowed and Rose had no intention of ever marrying again, so when Forrest proposed she told him she’d marry him on his 100th birthday.Damned if he didn’t call her bluff.

Now that’s love we can believe in.

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The President had a big week…

But still there are some who won’t let up on him…

People as politically diverse as Sean Hannity and Michael Moore claimed the killing of Bin Laden was illegal, and criticized it as an execution of an unarmed man.

Never at a loss for nonsense, Sarah Palin accused the President of “pussy-footing around” by not releasing the grim photos of Bin Laden’s death mask.Personally, I see no good that could from releasing the photos of Bin Laden with a bullet through his head.

What about you?

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Not to be outdone, the Republicans continued their war on women’s health…

... with the passage of yet another bill restricting the already non-existent taxpayer funding of abortion they claim is hiding somewhere in the Affordable Health Care Act, while also crafting legislation that would redefine “forcible rape.”Because apparently they believe there’s such a thing as consensual rape.

Bristol Palin was barely recognizable at a red carpet event this week.Palin denies going under the knife to achieve her new look, which includes Reece Witherspoon’s chin and Heidi Klum’s cheekbones, attributing the transformation to just the loss of a few pounds.

And I can see Russia from my house…

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This week Katy Couric announce that she will be leaving CBS News...

I will always hold her dear to my heart for changing the course of history in this one unforgettable moment.

Sunday, May 1, 2011

So what’s the verdict? Love the hat or hate it? I wouldn’t want to be the poor person who had to sit behind her.

Meanwhile, speculation on where the newlyweds will be honeymooning includes a private island in the Caribbean where I would love to someday sun my (size 4) ass, too. Guess I’d better get moving on finding my own rich prince.

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Price I paid at the pump this week: $4.39/gallon

First quarter profits by the big five oil companies: $34 billion.

That's about $110 for every man, woman, and child in the U.S. – in just three months.

Amount of taxpayer money given to oil companies in subsidies each year while the Republicans talk about cutting Medicare: $4 billion

You can read the whole article here and you should. Then get mad and get loud about it.

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The state flower of California is the poppy. The state bird of North Carolina is the cardinal. The state gun of Arizona is – WTF?

Just when we thought Governor Jan Brewer might have some redeeming values by vetoing a bill that would allow guns on college campuses, Brewer bent over for the right-wing in the state by signing into law a bill that would make the Colt revolver the official state gun of Arizona.

Coming only months after the deadly shooting that killed nine people and wounded 13, opponents suggested the action may be ill-timed. Ya think? Although, when a good time might be to honor an instrument whose only function is to kill people frankly eludes me.

Only one other state has made such a dubious designation, Utah. Yes, the state that frowns on alcohol use wants us to know that it holds the Browning model M1911 automatic pistol in high esteem.

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Watching President Obama set Trump back on his ass is a thing of beauty. Here is the president's monologue from last night's press correspondence dinner. The opening is sets the whole tone. Enjoy...